


Under Stars

by Angsty_Homosexual



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Dead Peter Parker, Death, Deathfic, Depression, Flash Thompson Bullies Peter Parker, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, I Made Myself Cry, Not Spider-Man: Far From Home Compliant, Other, Overdosing, POV Happy Hogan, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Suicide, Suicide Notes, The Author Regrets Everything, Trans Peter Parker, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 11:30:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20063302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angsty_Homosexual/pseuds/Angsty_Homosexual
Summary: Peter was struggling. Happy saw that much, but he hadn't helped. And now he would never get the chance to.





	Under Stars

**Author's Note:**

> This fic deals with suicide, the aftermath of suicide, and self harm. If that triggers you, please, please don’t read it. If you are struggling, know that there is help out there, and needing help is nothing to be ashamed of. A lot of the opinions expressed within this are honestly complete bullshit, such as how a character implies that suicide is selfish. It isn’t, but it also is definitely not the way you should go. Yes, you. Not everyone but you, as I used to think. Please stay safe.

It was three in the morning when Happy received the call. Rolling over, Happy picked up his phone, about to silence it before he read the I.D. 

“Peter?” Happy asked into the phone. “It’s three o’clock, kid. What’re you doing up?”

“Happy…” mumbled the voice on the other end. Happy wasn’t sure if it was Peter. The kid’s voice was always so happy, always so loud. 

“Yeah?” he answered unsurely.

“Happy,” Peter’s voice started to grow more confident. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry about the Vulture. I’m sorry about Titan and- and everything else. I- I want it to go away. It’s so loud. Happy, it’s so loud and it won’t be quiet and it’s all too loud and-” 

“Peter, what are you talking about?” Happy struggled to keep his voice even. 

“I- I can’t. Happy, it’s too loud,  _ it’s too loud. _ I can’t- I can’t make it stop and I want to and they won’t shut up and  _ it’s too loud _ ,” 

Peter started repeated those words time and time again, as though they were stuck on a loop in his mind. 

“FRIDAY, where’s Peter?” Happy whispered.

“In his aunt’s apartment, boss, according to Karen. He seems to be intoxicated,”

Happy frowned. “Alcohol?” He asked, surprised.

“He appears to have taken a large dose of his painkillers”

_ Shit _ . 

“FRIDAY, try to find out how much he took, and get a car ready,” Happy stood up. 

“Peter, stay on the line, ok bud? Um, how long has this been going on? How long has it been,” Happy paused, not wanting to say the words. “Too loud?”

Peter stopped repeating his words. “Since- since Titan. I’m sorry, Happy. I didn’t mean to wake you up,”

“No, Peter, it’s ok. You’re going to be fine, got it?”

“ _ No _ ,” Peter said forcefully. “He’s gone. Ben’s gone. Mom, Dad. They all left. I can’t- I’m not going to be  _ fine _ , Happy,” 

They both knew who “he” was, but Happy wished he didn’t. He had known that Peter had lost virtually everyone in his life, but Happy knew he had never stopped to think about what kind of effect that would have on someone as young as Peter.

“Kid, Tony would want you to be ok,” 

Peter didn’t respond for a second. “Happy, make sure May’s ok when I’m gone. She needs to know this wasn’t her fault. Ok?”

“Mr. Hogan?” FRIDAY’s calm voice broke through Happy’s shock. “Peter has taken a lethal dose of his enhanced Spidey meds,” 

Happy froze as all the pieces fell into place. 

“Peter, no- Peter, please tell me this wasn’t on purpose,” Happy said, his voice suddenly soft.

“I’m sorry, Happy,” Peter forced out, his breathing growing more laboured. Happy stumbled into the garage and nearly fell into the open door of the car FRIDAY had prepared.

“Peter! Stay with me. Please,” Happy’s voice broke. 

“I’m sorry I was such a bother. I never shut up. I didn’t want to make you suffer, I can’t- can’t be alone in silence, and so I would just talk about nothing and I knew it was dumb and-” Peter cut off his ramble. “I called you to say I’m sorry. And please take care of May, she won’t have any family when I’m gone. Tell her I love her, ok? And make sure Ned and MJ aren’t too sad. They can’t blame themselves. Make sure they all know that I’m sorry- oh yeah. There’s a box of letters under my bed. Make sure everyone-” Peter stopped. “I’m talking too much. Bye, Happy,” Peter mumbled. 

The phone beeped as Peter hung up.

“FRIDAY, call him. Force the call through if you have to,” 

Peter picked up after a second, much to Happy’s surprise. 

“I called you because you wouldn’t care enough to stop me,” 

Happy paused. Peter’s voice was void of emotion. “No, Peter. I’m so sorry it felt like that. Kid, I care so much, please-”

Happy’s phone beeped again. Peter had terminated the call.

Happy opened his eyes. 

“I’m so sorry, Peter,” he said softly. Looking back, Happy realized that he was driving the same car he had driven to the apartment when Peter had called him. Looking back, Happy had realized a lot of things. Peter had stopped talking whenever Happy took him to the new compound. And Happy had been  _ grateful _ for that. Looking back, Peter had only spoke when spoken to and he had only worn long sleeved shirts. The autopsy had made the reason for that blatantly clear. 

Happy opened the car door and stood outside, staring at the funeral home for a moment before entering. 

_ Happy slammed the car door shut, not wasting a moment to let himself into the apartment complex. _

He slowly made his way into the viewing area, which thankfully wasn’t crowded yet.

_ He rushed up the stairs, pulling out the spare key as he made his way to the door. _

Happy steeled himself, knowing well enough nothing could prepare him for seeing May’s face. 

_ The door to Peter’s room was locked. Happy barely thought as he kicked it down. _

May’s face was pale and she didn’t speak as she grabbed Happy’s arm and slowly led him towards the open coffin.

_ The first thing that computed in Happy’s mind was that Peter was wearing a tank-top like contraption that seemed tight against his chest. The second thing he realized was that Peter’s arms were uncovered. Peter had always worn long sleeve shirts. Happy understood why now. _

Happy tugged against May’s arm without much effort. He didn’t want to see Peter yet. 

_ Blood covered the sheets of Peter’s bed, staining the fabric bright red. Peter’s once-white binder was stained with the dull shade of dried blood that contrasted the bright red flowing onto the binder.  _

Happy stared at the navy blue of the suit Peter had been stuffed into, not being able to bring himself to look at Peter’s face. He could still remember the jokes Peter had made about his name, and the way he would rant nonstop. Hell, the kid had started rambling to him that night. That had been two weeks ago. He could remember Peter ranting like that before the Blip, before Titan, before the kid lost his fourth parental figure. Now that Happy thought of it, he hadn’t heard one of those impassioned, overly excited rants since before everything had happened. Happy knew he would give anything to hear one of those rants again. Hell, he would give anything just to speak to the kid again, even if it was only for a minute. To tell him he was loved, that he could get better, that he had nothing to be sorry for. All the things no one had told him until it was too late.

_ The only part of Peter not drenched in blood was his face. Happy stifled a yelp as his gaze traveled to Peter’s face. Happy had never thought it possible for a face to be both unearthly pale and flushed with the ghosts of tears. He gently pressed a finger to Peter’s neck, scared of what he would find. For a moment, Happy felt relief coursing through his veins, but…  _

Happy gently took Peter’s hand, just like he had that night. Happy could still remember the fading warmth that had been present underneath the blood that had covered Peter’s whole body.

_ Happy’s knees gave out under him as he removed his fingers from the spot Peter’s pulse was supposed to be.  _

_ “No,” _

_ Happy grabbed Peter’s limp hand desperately, bringing it to his lips, trying to find warmth within it. Happy had sobbed uncontrollably, begging Peter to come back. He had seen so many people die before, but not this young. Never this young. Never someone who had lit up every room he entered. Never the light of his best friend’s life. He could still remember Tony sobbing after Thanos. He could still remember the way Tony had stared at Peter’s picture for so long after he was gone, and, worst of all, he knew Tony had gone across the universe, across time, just so he could save the young man that he saw as a son. _

_ Happy distantly heard the door open behind him. He felt as someone collapsed next to him, but it didn’t seem to matter until he remembered Peter’s words to him. _

_ “Make sure May’s ok when I’m gone” _

_ Happy looked up, wrapping his arms around May Parker’s nearly limp form.  _

Peter had given off warmth, even in the moment that Happy had found him. 

His hand was cold. Happy stared at the limp, freakish remnant of Spider-Man. It all seemed so  _ wrong _ . Peter was the epitome of life. He had never stopped moving, never stopped talking, never stopped spreading his warmth and light, which had made so many people subconsciously drawn to him.

Now that warmth was gone. Peter had been a star that shined brilliantly even in the darkest of times, but he hadn’t died the way he was supposed to. He hadn’t aged out of existence, finally exploding into a supernova that would make more stars or light the sky brightly. Instead, a black hole had swallowed Peter whole, and no one had seen until he passed the event horizon. Still, even as he was brought down by a black hole that didn’t even let light escape, Peter had still managed to keep shining. Happy wondered if his eyes still had a shadow of the light he had given to so many people.

_ Happy and May stayed wrapped up in one another’s arms for what felt like hours. FRIDAY had dialed 911, and when Peter was taken out of his room, Happy stayed with May. He stayed with her when she passed out. He traced the lines of her face, wondering how her and Peter weren’t blood relatives. Peter had more than a bit of May in him, and now it seemed that the piece of Peter that in May was the only little bit of Peter left in the world. _

Happy felt urged to laugh when he remembered that he had thought that the piece of Peter in May was the only bit of Peter left. Peter had left marks on so many people. Maybe he was a sun, and all of them had been planets, feeding off Peter’s bright, warm light. And while he bettered their worlds, they had just turned away.  _ Happy _ had just turned away. 

Happy looked away from Peter’s pale hand, inhaling before firmly forcing his eyes to look to Peter’s face.

He regretted it the moment he did.

_ Happy’s phone rang. _

_ “What?” he asked harshly.  _

_ “It’s Peter’s friend, Ned. It’s probably nothing, but… has Peter been going out as Spider-Man lately?” _

_ Happy scoffed. “Hell no. He’s- how did he say it?- ‘taking a breather.’ What makes you ask?” _

_ “Well, it’s just… he showed up at school and he had this huge gash on his arm and said it was from Spider-Man, but he said he was taking a break from Spider-Man and-”  _

_ Happy inhaled sharply. “I’ll ask him about it,”  _

And Happy had. Peter had muttered something about an accident having to do with school before leaving. Happy had  _ seen _ the tears in his eyes as he turned to go. But he hadn’t done anything. After that, Peter hadn’t worn short sleeves again, and he had started going out as Spider-Man again. Happy had seen how reckless the kid was being. He hadn’t done anything. Again.

Happy stared at Peter’s face. No- not Peter. Peter was a boy- a star- who gave off light wherever he went. This thing, this doll, was pale and cold and plastic, it’s face adorned by a disgusting, unnatural  _ thing _ stuck on it’s lips that seemed to be trying to resemble a smile. It smirked up at Happy, taunting him with bitter reminders that it was no longer Peter’s smile. Because Peter wouldn’t smile again. Happy had seen to that. 

“Peter. I’m sorry. I-” Happy’s voice broke. “This is on me, isn’t it? You thought I wouldn’t care. I guess I didn’t. I saw the signs.  _ I saw,  _ kid, please.  _ Please,  _ kid,” Happy wasn’t even sure what he was asking for. He just stared down at the remainder of the kid who had always been a star. The kid who, without warning, stopped shining. 

_ There were warnings. You just ignored them. _

May was gone by the time Happy looked up. In her place, a teenager stared down at the casket. 

“Why’d you do this?” the girl asked. She looked up at Happy. “We knew he was depressed, but we didn’t think it would go… like this,” Happy stared at her. She seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place where he knew her from. “I’m Michelle Jones. One of Peter’s friends,” Happy nodded. He had heard a lot about MJ from Peter, back when the kid actually  _ talked _ to him. Happy squeezed his eyes shut for a second. Peter  _ had _ talked to people during the end. Just no one had listened. And now Peter was paying for that. “So what do you plan to do about Spider-Man?”

Happy blinked. “You know about Spider-Man?” he asked incredulously. 

“I figured it out a while back. Are you going to release Peter’s name? He deserved a lot more credit than he got, and now that” MJ paused. “Well, May won’t have a target on her back anymore,”

Happy frowned. The tear tracks lining MJ’s face proved that she must have cared for Peter, but she spoke as though he had merely gone on a long-term vacation, not like he had swallowed a bottle of pills.

“I don’t know. He asked me to take care of May, and she deserves to grieve in peace, but-” Happy trailed off, remembering what Peter had said to him about Ned and MJ. “Peter told me to tell you and Ned that you can’t blame yourselves for what happened,”

MJ froze. “You’re Happy Hogan,” she said suddenly. “You were with him when… when he passed,”

Happy sighed, the well of unbidden memories torn open again. 

“Yeah. Yeah I was,”

“Did he say why he didn’t call one of us?”

Happy stared at her. “He thought-” His voice caught. “He thought I wouldn’t care. I think he knew you would’ve cared,” 

MJ stared at him, unimpressed. “Was he right? Did you not care?” she asked softly.

Happy took a breath. “I saw the signs. He didn’t really talk anymore unless someone talked  _ to _ him. He was reckless, kept apologising over  _ everything, _ he didn’t eat. I saw. And I,” Happy looked to MJ, “didn’t do anything,” MJ nodded, her eyes going back to Peter’s body. 

“It’s not your fault,” she said. “Peter wouldn’t want you to blame yourself,”

“Yeah, but then again, Peter would blame himself,”

Happy took a breath.

“Mr. Hogan. They’re ready for you,” 

Happy nodded distractedly. There was no avoiding this. Finally, he looked up at Mr. Morita’s grim face and stood up. He felt like he was in a trance as he walked up to the podium and took in the audience in front of him, a couple hundred grave-faced highschoolers and a few news cameras that were broadcasting Happy’s speech. 

“Hello,” he started. “As you know, a student within your community recently took his own life. That student, Peter Parker, was one of the strongest, most perservirant people I’ve ever had the privilege of meeting. I’m sure a lot of you know that as well as I do,” Happy looked up, first meeting the teary eyes of Ned and MJ, before searching through the crowd for one final person.

Flash Thompson’s eyes were red and he sat alone, not moving a muscle as he fearfully met Happy’s gaze. 

“What the majority of you don’t know,” Happy said, looking away from Flash, “is that Peter Parker doubled as the hero dubbed Spider-Man and fought in the battle against Thanos. Without him, many of you may not have been here today,” Happy stared at the crowd, letting himself briefly make eye contact with Eugene Thompson. “And yet, that didn’t stop many of you from calling him ‘Penis Parker,’ and making him hide bruises and cuts from the people who loved him, and-” Happy’s voice broke. “Peter wanted a letter to be read to you all,” 

Happy gently pulled the rumpled paper out of his pocket, reminding himself that Peter had touched this, when he was alive. 

_ Alive.  _

_ Was. _

Happy froze, wondering how the hell he could think that. How had he gotten to a point where one of the happiest, goofiest people he knew had killed himself?

_ Why did the brightest star in the sky let himself be swallowed? _

Slowly, Happy looked down at the letter in front of him. 

_ “Hello, _ ” he started. 

“ _ I could explain why I did what I did, but I’m sure that far too many of the people watching this understand a bit too well, even if they don’t know me. You all deserve to move on, and to understand. I tried to feel better for a while, but there isn’t anything that helps, except maybe Spider-Man. Who is me. That’s why I had to ditch my date at Homecoming, why I witnessed Mr. Stark dying and a lot of other stuff. Anyway, I want to finish this by saying that this is for the best. Just maybe don’t start copying me? But also don’t feel bad. I deserve this.  _

Happy looked up, feeling tears well up in his eyes. 

_ I deserve this. _

The cafeteria was dead silent. Happy sighed, knowing there was nothing else he could do. Calmly, he turned away from the microphone and walked off stage. 

_ He’s with Tony now.  _

Happy knew that thought should be comforting. But Peter had still left  _ them _ . There would be a gap in Ned and MJ’s conversations. May’s apartment would be empty. The remaining Avengers’ battles would be so much quieter, because suddenly, the sun they didn’t know they depended on had left them.

Happy wondered if the Avengers would even stay together after this. Without Nat, Tony, Steve… Peter? When the Avengers came back from the missions before, they had always been joking, smiling. Weary, yes, but happy. After Thanos, though, the missions had stayed silent. No one spoke when they returned, because they all felt the void of their missing teammates. And eventually, Peter had spoken into that void. Happy had heard them laughing wearily as Peter had made plans based on movies he had seen, or made quips that reminded them all a bit too much of Tony. Peter wouldn’t do that again. He had  _ chose _ not to, because he had been falling and no one had cared enough to reach for him until he was hitting the ground. 

And now they all seemed to care so much. They didn’t when he was a boy, spreading his dimming light throughout the world, but now that he had rejoined the stars, becoming the thing he had always been inside, they begged him to come back.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. That was a journey to write. I was having a pretty crappy day, I hadn’t been able to take my meds for a while, and I couldn’t get this idea out of my head, so I started writing it. Eventually, I made a random metaphor of Peter being like a star, and that kinda stuck to me, so I decided to make it more central. I’ll be honest, this definitely was all over the place, but I tried to make it read as well as it could. The title comes from Under Stars by Aurora, who is an insanely underrated artist, by the way.


End file.
